


Rock This Town

by jupiter_james



Series: Rock On 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguments, Blow Jobs, In the Shower, M/M, Makeup Sex, Piercings, Rock On 'verse, Tattoo Artist Dean Winchester, Tattoo Artist Sam Winchester, Tattooed Dean Winchester, Tattoos, minor hurt/comfort, piercing artist Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: Dean and Castiel have their first major fight. And then they make up.The other drabbles are based on the incredible Punk TFW art made byWinchester-Reloadon Tumblr.This one is dedicated tothis amazing dick pick she drew.





	Rock This Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts).



Castiel looks like he's been slapped in the face. Frozen in place, blue, blue eyes as wide as saucers. "You did _what_?"

Angrily, Dean swipes a chemical cold compress out of the freezer and gently holds it over his swollen bottom lip. Voice muffled a little he bites, "I fought back when some goddamn piece of shit at the bar decided to rail on some other dudes for being _gay_ in _public_."

Castiel grabs Dean's shoulders. "What happened to your piercing? Your lip ring that I gave you? Where is it?"

Dean shrugs away from the touch, winces, eases himself onto the kitchen chair like he's an old man. "Dunno, Cas," he says moodily. "It fell out when I got _punched in the fucking face_ , in case you didn't notice? Thanks for the concern, by the way." He removes the ice pack long enough to prod gently at the cut. "Jesus, I might need stitches. Does it look like I need stitches?" 

He turns his face up to his fiance, but Castiel's done looking worried. He looks downright stormy. "You didn't look for it?" he demands.

Groaning, Dean puts the ice pack back on. "Excuse the shit outta me, but I was more concerned with not getting concussed when that piece of shit was wailing on me. Then I got thrown out. So, no. Fuck, Cas, I didn't have time."

Castiel leans over to Dean's eye level, eyes dark. "What bar was it?"

"Huh?"

Snapping his fingers impatiently, Castiel says, "what was the bar's name? Which one did you go to? I can call them and ask them if they found it."

Scrunching his face up, Dean thinks. Fails to remember. That's what happens on a bar crawl. They all sort of blend together after a while. "We went to like, ten places. I can't remember now."

Castiel frowns harder.

Dean sighs, rolling his eyes and starting to edge towards pissed, too. "Dude, a little concern for _me_ would be nice, y'know? Who cares about the goddamn lip ring? I can get another one!"

Castiel physically rears back like he's the one to take a punch. And Dean only has a split second to be confused before he's hauling Dean out of the chair by the front of his bloody plaid shirt, dragging him forcefully to the door. 

"What the hell, man?" Dean protests, trying to dig his heels in.

With strength that Dean's only been on this side of in the bedroom, Castiel opens the front door and unceremoniously throws Dean onto the porch. "Get the fuck out!" he shouts.

Dean stumbles, almost falling down the stairs. But then he rights himself and swings around to face Castiel, completely confused and angry as the day is long. "I repeat: what the hell? Dude, I'm sorry I got in a fight, or whatever, but it's not like it hasn't happened before! And you would'a done the same if you'd heard that guy!"

Castiel splutters, face red with ire. "That's not... you don't even... I can't even... _fuck you_!" And he slams the door and locks it. With Dean's keys and wallet still inside.

Dean stands on the front porch of their beautiful house one hundred percent floored. What the actual hell? He raises his fist to pound on the goddamn door he'd painted and installed, when a voice calls over, "I wouldn't push it!"

He turns right and sees Sam sitting in the rocking chair on the porch of his house which is conveniently right next door. "I didn't _do_ anything?" Dean calls back, incredulous.

Sam inclines his head. "Tell me all about it."

Sighing, Dean tromps over to his brother's house and sits down on the other rocking chair. And he tells his brother everything. About the shitheel at the bar, the fight, the injury, and... Sam stops him. "You didn't try to get the jewelry back?"

Dean knocks his head back on the chair, feeling like the only person focusing on the right detail. "I was too fucking busy getting tossed out and then trying not to bleed out from my mouth."

Sam shakes his head. "Wow. You know what? You kinda deserved to get kicked out on your ass."

Exasperated, Dean throws his arms out wide. " _Why_?"

Sam looks at his brother like he's the dullest knife in the drawer. "Because you lost your engagement ring, and didn't even care about getting it back! Are you _really_ that thick?"

Dean's heart thuds in his chest. "Oh." He blinks. "Oh, shit."

"No kidding," Sam returns dryly.

"And I said..." He covers his face with his hands, groaning. "Christ, Sam, I told him it didn't matter and I'd just get a new one."

"Oh, Dean," Sam says, horrified. "That's..."

"He's gonna divorce me before we're even married," Dean supplies.

Sam pats his brother comfortingly on the shoulder. "Let's hope he's more forgiving than that. Give him the night to sleep on it. In the meantime..." he eyes his brother's face. "We should probably get you to an urgent care. Come on."

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

The next morning, Dean sleeps in. Sam graciously gives him the spare room for the night, and then the day off from the studio. Castiel takes too much pride in his work to call out for any reason other than a contagious illness, so once work hours have started, Dean figures he's safe and digs the spare key to his house out of Sam's junk drawer and slinks next door, unreasonably glad that his fiance isn't home for the time being. All he really wants is a quick shower and a change of clothes.

However.

On his way to the bathroom, he happens to glance into their shared studio. Dean's large computer screen is on. And there's a new wallpaper on the screen. 

It's a dick.

A huge, throbbing, veiny dick. It's actually a pretty nice digital painting, truth be told.

Also.

The entire _room_ is wallpapered in dicks. Castiel has used up every last bit of Dean's tattoo transfer paper to decorate the studio with hand drawn cocks. Small, large, splooging, hairy, cartoony, limp, hard, pierced, tattooed, every kind of penis under the sun.

Dean marvels at it. Wants to laugh, but he also realizes that this shit took a _lot_ of anger and hurt to burn off. He's almost afraid to go into the bedroom and see what's happened in there.

Nothing's happened in there. In fact, Castiel is still in there. Sitting on the bed. Wearing the same clothes he'd been the day before. He hadn't even bathed since his mohawk is still up-ish, though pretty sad and droopy. Just like Castiel himself. He'd been up all night? Jesus. Dean's heart hurts worse than he can ever remember. He'd done this with his careless words.

But he hasn't been noticed, so he's about to tiptoe away and give the poor guy more space, when Castiel's shoulders heave up with a huge sniffle and he breaks into an ugly sob.

It's not the smartest thing to do, but Dean's on autopilot. He rushes to the end of the bed and falls to his knees in front of his fiance. "Cas," he murmurs, heartbroken.

Castiel blinks at him, eyes swollen, bloodshot, and his nose cherry red from crying. Crying for hours, probably. After the dicks. "You were so mean," Castiel sobs. "How could you be so mean like that?"

Dean puts his hands on Castiel's knees. "I'm so fucking sorry," he blabbers in a rush. "I didn't realize what I was saying yesterday. I stuck my foot in it, I know I did. I just... man, I was kind of out of it, and forgot about the ring." When Castiel's face crumbles further, Dean gushes on, "I don't mean that I forgot about how important it was! It's just... the heat of the moment, y'know? I had to go get stitches and I was so worked up from the fight, that I... My mouth got away from me," he finishes lamely. "I never meant to suggest that I didn't want your engagement ring, Cas. I want it. I want _you_. I'm nothing without you, babe, you know that, right?"

Castiel wipes his nose furiously on his sleeve. "That's why I'm so upset," he says in a crackling voice. "It felt like... like you didn't care about something so important to me. I _know_ it's just jewelry. Just a symbol. But symbols are important to me. They're what my whole career is based around. And that ring I made for you... I put my heart and soul into it."

Dean chances sliding into Castiel's lap, straddling him and thumbing away his tears. "I know that. I can't believe I was so stupid. It means a lot to me, too. I'll prove it, okay? I'll go to all the bars I can remember until I can find it. Please forgive me. I'll do anything, Cas."

Castiel stares at Dean long and hard. After a moment, he seems to deflate. He rests his forehead against Dean's, gently touching the three stitches over his bottom lip. "I'll make you a new one. A better one. Once this heals. Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as I hurt you," Dean answers. "I'm sorry. Really, _really_ sorry."

"I forgive you." He sniffles again. Grumbles, "you smell like the hospital."

"Did you sleep last night?"

Castiel shakes his head.

Dean snatches a tiny kiss. "Me, either."

"I was so upset and I..."

"Drew a million dicks?"

Castiel reddens. "Well, you were being one."

Dean chuckles. "So, those dicks are all a representation of me?"

"Yes."

"That's on me. So. Uh. Is there anything I can do to make up for all the dicks?"

Castiel's tiny smile is a balm. "You can suck mine," he says boldly.

"I've got stitches," Dean smiles back.

"Just a little?" Castiel whines.

Dean slips out of Castiel's lap and stands, holding both hands out and wiggling his fingers. It's really not that bad. He walks backwards towards the bathroom. Castiel makes a hop forward, putting their hips together and moving fluidly with Dean, almost like a dance. "Just to be clear," Dean murmurs as he begins to unbutton Castiel's shirt, "you're the best damn thing in the whole world. I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Castiel slaps the shower controls and strips Dean of his shirt in seconds. "I know you do," he says. "That's why I got so angry." He kisses all over Dean's chest and shoulders. Up his neck. "The people we love the most are the ones who can hurt us the worst. But I know you. Sometimes you have a problem with speaking before you think."

Dean's fingers stray into Castiel's hair, messing up the frowning mohawk while Castiel moves on to their pants. "I swear I'll get better at it. Nothing's made that more clear than this whole mess."

Naked, aching for an affirmation of both their love and desire for each other, Castiel pulls Dean into the shower, backing himself up against the wall. "You were in pain, and the fight, and... it was the last thing on your mind." He ruts into Dean's hip until he's properly hard. " _Mph_ , I understand. I was too emotional."

Dean drops to his knees. "You were right." And without preamble, he takes the head of Castiel's gorgeous cock into his mouth.

Castiel lets out a dirty moan, hands framing Dean's skull, urging him on.

Dean suckles the head, fondles Castiel's balls, then draws back long enough to say, "c'mon, fuck my mouth, baby."

"Oh," Castiel sighs softly. Then his hands tighten and he rolls his hips forward, slowly, languidly thrusting into Dean's hot mouth. "Can you...? Do you think you can...?"

Dean hums, tongue stiff along the vein on the underside of Castiel's length. He's never been able to quite get the deep throating thing down before, but they've been practicing. Dean swallows. Castiel gasps. Dean relaxes further, leaning his head forward when Castiel makes another controlled thrust forward. His dick touches the back of Dean's throat and makes the muscles convulse. 

Castiel pulls out immediately and Dean coughs hard, eyes tearing up. But before Castiel can say never mind, Dean grabs at his waist. "One more time," he says. His mouth is watering for it. 

Beaming, Castiel strokes though Dean's soaked hair. Then he's filling Dean's mouth again. Measured thrusts in and out, going a little deeper every time. Dean takes himself in hand loosely, loving every second of it. 

Castiel's hands tighten on the crown of his head. "Fuck," he whispers. "You're so... Dean, you're so..." One more push, and his cock is completely engulfed in Dean's mouth. 

It's so good. Dean squeezes his own dick, twists his wrist on the upward stroke, and comes. The rumbling groan makes Castiel shudder and come straight down Dean's throat. 

He pulls off almost immediately, but they're both still trembling when Dean gets to his feet and they begin to wash off properly. 

Hazy, eyes half lidded, Castiel says, "you know, if you had to lose your engagement ring, I'm glad it happened while you were defending our fellow queer brethren."

Dean grins. "There won't be a next time, though."

Castiel kisses him soundly. "Good, because I'm tired of drawing dicks."


End file.
